Page 4 of Keeping Her Secrets

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As he wrestled the stunning woman in his arms into the elevator, he couldn’t help but remember their last encounter. It’d been shortly after Megan had given birth to Zoey, and he’d been visiting the UK on a short R&R trip. Mustique had walked into the room at the Cunningham Estate, a grand stately home, owned by Fortis leader Zack Cunningham and where Meg and Dan had been living and he’d been hit with a punch of desire like nothing he’d ever felt before.

With her full lips, high cheekbones, and dark, almost black, fuck-me bedroom eyes, she had metaphorically knocked him on his ass. Long, rich chestnut hair, with caramel highlights, accentuated the warmth of her skin, making it smooth and flawless in a way only nature could achieve.

But it was none of those things, not even the long, lithe, muscular legs encased in leather pants, or the sweet curve of her tits almost spilling out of the tank top she wore, that was the main attraction. No, it was the sass that came from her sweet-looking mouth when he’d tried to introduce himself to her. She had knocked him back so fast he hadn’t even seen it coming.

“Don’t bother, Yank boy; I’m not interested. I don’t shit where I eat.” Then she’d looked him over slowly as if cataloging him, then spun on her heel and sashayed away.

He’d known within a minute of meeting her she was trouble with a capital T, but what she didn’t realize was that Ash loved a challenge. He’d been determined to taste her sassy mouth before he left the UK and wasn’t that a memory for another time he conceded as he managed to wrestle her upright. “Mustique.”

Her head lolled onto his shoulder as he held her weight on him. She mumbled something he couldn’t decipher.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying, sweetheart.” To see such a controlled woman so out of it, an air of sadness surrounding her, made his gut clench.

“Marisol, my name is Marisol.”

This time, he was able to make out her words. “Okay, Marisol, are you staying at the hotel?”

She nodded.

“Can I have your key card?”

She just hiccupped, so he gently patted her down, trying not to feel like a pervert touching a compromised woman, and ignoring his dick, who was not getting the message her curves weren’t for his enjoyment. He located the key card. “Mustique, honey, what room number are you?”

She peered at him with confusion before muttering, “Three zero seven.”

Ash was pleased to see she was on the next floor they stopped at. Ash half-carried Marisol to the door to her suite and, with some effort, opened it before maneuvering her to the bedroom and laying her gently on the bed.

Her black pants would be fine for her to sleep in, but the red stiletto heels and white sleeveless shirt with frills and a neck tie would not. He considered what to do for a moment, listening to the soft snores already coming from her. She was really out of it, and he didn’t want to leave her like that. She could get sick and choke or wake up and go back downstairs and get into all sorts of trouble.

He still didn’t know what she actually did, but he knew she could handle a Shuriken throwing star like a pro. Having watched her spar with Daniel, Ash also knew she wasn’t an amateur at hand-to-hand combat too.

“Marisol, I’m going to take your shoes and shirt off, so you’ll be more comfortable, okay?”

Nothing; not even a twitch as he slid her shoes from her feet, noticing how incredibly soft her skin was. He turned her onto her back, and her hair fell across her face. He swept it softly away and watched her frown. What had happened to this woman to make her get so wasted?

He shook off the thought; it wasn’t his business. She’d made it clear, after they’d shared the most passionate kiss of his life, that she was not his to care about and nothing could happen between them. Reluctantly, he’d agreed and walked away.

Now, he felt a sense of regret he’d given up so quickly. He hadn’t forgotten her, not for a second. She wandered into his mind at the worst times, even on missions—fucking with his focus without him even realizing it. He should have pushed harder, and maybe they would have gotten the attraction between them out of their systems by now.

Ash leaned in, and the scent of her shampoo surrounded him—vanilla and honey. Such a sweet scent for a strong woman that it shouldn’t work but it did, and every time he smelled it, he found it intoxicating.

He removed her shirt and turned Marisol onto her side, deciding the name suited her but needed shortening. In his head, she was a Mari, and it was what he would call her from now on.

Now that she was shirtless, he was relieved to see she was wearing a camisole over her white bra, the lacy edge peeking out. Tucking the covers around her body, he placed a pillow behind her head and then dimmed the bedside light so she wouldn’t wake up disoriented. He turned to walk away, a heavy weight in his chest at the thought of leaving her, and stopped dead as the first whimper left her mouth.

Ash turned and sucked in a sharp breath when he saw silent tears tracking down her perfect, sleeping face. A face which usually looked stunning, but, right now, it was so haunted he wanted to reach out and swipe the person or situation that had caused it from the earth. Sitting in the curve of her knees, careful not to wake her, he swept a hand over her cheek, wiping the wetness away. He continued to do so as the tears kept coming until the whimpers were all out sobs.

Feeling her pain like a knife to the gut, Ash lay on the bed and gathered her into his arms, holding her while she wept in her drunken sleep. Murmuring reassuring words that made no sense, he ignored the vibration of his phone, knowing it was probably Daniel. He would have to call him back and explain what had happened, but one thing was sure, he was not about to leave this woman who’d fought him so hard. Not when she needed him.

After about an hour, her cries settled, and she fell into a relaxed, deep sleep. The temptation to fall asleep with her in his arms was strong. She felt right there—she fit perfectly—but he knew she would hate the fact she’d shown her vulnerable side. Plus, he liked his balls where they were, and her waking up in a man’s arms when she couldn’t remember going to bed with him, put him in significant danger.

Easing out from under her body, where she had lain across him like a blanket, he stood and strode slowly to the balcony. Sliding the door open and stepping outside, he checked his phone and found five texts from Daniel. Hitting dial instead of replying, he waited for his cousin to pick up as he glanced back at the sleeping woman.

In all his fantasies about sharing a bed with Mustique, and there’d been many, none of them had involved the scenario that had just played out. Yet he couldn’t regret he’d had been the one there for her when she fell. He liked the idea of being the one to hold her while she put herself back together, and there was zero doubt in his mind she would be back to her caustic self when she sobered up.

“Where the fuck did you disappear too?” Daniel demanded as a greeting.